She shoved the shifter into park. “You never know.” She locked eyes with Tyler in the mirror. “He certainly won’t be impressed with an assistant whose sons act like savages. He might not let me bring you back again.”
She watched the dark head nod as he acknowledged the truth in her words, and breathed a sigh of relief. Her goal for this beautiful Saturday morning was to finish labeling the files for all that junk in Neal’s drawer while the kids watched Saturday-morning cartoons on the TV. After she made up a few of the hours she missed Thursday afternoon, she’d promised the boys a trip to the park to feed the ducks.
Neal’s truck still sat in the driveway, unmoved since Wednesday night. Today, Scott’s truck was parked alongside it, and both the front and back barn doors stood open. Neal usually left the front doors closed. A small difference, but one that served as a reminder that Neal was no longer in charge of Out to Pasture.
The moment she turned the key and cut the engine, the boys tumbled out the back doors and took off at a run toward the barn. Becky gathered her purse, watching through the windshield as Sam greeted them, his tail whipping back and forth while they petted and hugged him. She opened the car door, her pulse speeding up when Scott stepped to the wide barn doorway to meet her sons.
“Hello, there! You must not be strangers, or my guard dog wouldn’t be licking your faces.”
“Sam knows us.” Jamie stared at him with serious eyes. “He’s our friend.”
Scott grinned at her, but he answered Jamie with utmost seriousness. “I can see that.”
Jamie stood straight and stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jamie Dennison.”
Becky hid a smile. At least Jamie had listened to her lecture on manners this morning. Maybe Tyler would follow his brother’s lead.
Scott returned Jamie’s greeting formally. “Nice to meet you, Jamie. I’m Scott Lewis.”
When Scott released his hand, Tyler shoved his forward. “I’m Tyler. Are you going to fire my mom if I act like a savage?”
With a groan, Becky leaned against the hood of her car and shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Scott considering his answer. “Probably not,” he told Tyler, “but I might ask her to keep you in the office so you won’t get in my way out here. Only big kids who behave themselves can help with the horses, you know.”
Tyler’s face lit with excitement at the suggestion of helping with the horses. “I’m a big kid. I’m in kindergarten.”
Scott grinned at her over the tops of two dark heads. “Good. I can use some helpers today.”
Becky opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t come to work on a Saturday to play with horses. She had things to do in the office. And she couldn’t dump the boys on Scott while she went inside.
Her protest died unspoken as a car pulled into the driveway. The sunlight gleamed on the polished hood of a gold Mercedes Roadster. It slowed to a stop midway down the driveway, the sun’s rays reflecting off the windshield so that Becky couldn’t see the driver clearly. She glanced at Scott, who shrugged.
Becky approached the driver’s door and stopped beside the tinted windows. After a moment, the window opened a few inches, revealing a woman in large dark sunglasses with a tan print scarf covering her head.
Odd. Sometimes people came on Saturdays for a tour, but she hadn’t made note on the calendar of anyone scheduled for today. Maybe this woman was out for a drive and stopped in when she saw the sign by the road.
“Hello.” Becky dipped her head toward the window. “Are you here for a tour?”
The dark glasses hid most of the woman’s face, but her lips, unadorned with lipstick, tightened into a crooked line for a moment before she answered. “No. I…uh, no.”
Was that a sob that broke her voice? Becky couldn’t be sure, but the skin on her arm prickled with sudden suspicion. Could this woman be the mysterious “L”? Maybe the owner of the footprint returning to check out the scene of her crime?
“What can we do for you, Ms….” She let her tone rise, an unspoken request for the stranger’s name.
“Keller.” The woman’s lips snapped shut. She faced forward, staring through the windshield at the place where Scott and the boys stood near the entrance to the barn, watching them.
The boys! Fear clawed at Becky’s throat. What had possessed her to bring the boys here today? Neal’s killer was still on the loose, and maybe even sitting here now, with her fancy car pointed directly toward them.
The woman drew a shuddering breath and spoke without facing Becky, the eyes invisible behind the glasses. “I…I just wanted to look around, if that’s okay?”
A sob stuttered her voice. That sounded like genuine grief. Becky took a step toward the window, her suspicions beginning to fade. Did killers grieve over their victims? The scarf was knotted beneath an untidy mass of dark hair at the back of her head. The woman’s rather large nose was red, the nostrils rubbed nearly raw. Either she was suffering from a bad cold, or she had recently indulged in a violent crying spell. A shuddering breath gave evidence of the latter, and compassion warred with suspicion in Becky. Maybe she wasn’t a killer after all. A friend of Neal’s, perhaps?
“I don’t know if Mr. Lewis has time to conduct a tour this morning.” She cast a glance toward Scott.
The woman killed the engine and got out of the car. When she stood, she towered a full head over Becky. That wasn’t unusual. Most people did.
Scott stepped forward, the boys and Sam tagging along. He held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Scott Lewis. I’m taking care of things around here for a little while.”
The woman’s hand froze in the process of stretching out to take Scott’s, and a sob escaped her lips. Her shoulders hunched forward and her hands rose to cover her face, glasses and all, as she succumbed to a fit of weeping.
“Oh, you poor thing.” All her suspicions melting at the sight of the woman’s grief, Becky rushed forward and put an arm around the sobbing woman’s shoulders.
The boys stood openmouthed. A grown woman blubbering like a child wasn’t something they saw often. Becky squeezed the shuddering shoulders and made soothing noises while Scott watched, his extended hand clenching and unclenching.
After a moment, the woman pulled a much-used tissue from the pocket of her jacket and scrubbed at her red nose. “I’m suh-sorry to act like a fool. I just—” Another heave robbed her of words and she shook her head violently, knocking her glasses lopsided on her face. She shoved them up to perch on top of her scarf like the eyes of a giant insect.
Grief could ravage the looks of even a beautiful woman, and this woman was no beauty to begin with. Despair had wreaked havoc on her face. She folded the ragged tissue and attempted to blot at her eyes, the lids of which were so reddened and swollen that discerning their normal shape was impossible.
With a huge intake of breath, she shoved the damp scrap of tissue back in her pocket and thrust her hand toward Scott in a belated greeting. “Please forgive me for being rude, Mr. Lewis. My name is Isabelle Keller, and I’m a…” Becky thought she might sob again, but instead she swallowed hard and continued with obvious difficulty. “I was a friend of Neal Haldeman.”
Isabelle Keller. Becky knew that name. Isabelle’s father was a well-known real estate mogul who had bought and sold half the land in central Kentucky at one time or other. His name was in the newspaper almost every day. Becky had spoken with Isabelle on the phone several times, and had overheard Neal arranging to pick her up for dinner just last week. At the time Becky had noted that his attitude on the phone was deferential, unlike his tone when he spoke with women like Kaci Buchanan.
Neal had certainly moved in lofty circles.
Becky placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “Miss Keller, I’m so sorry for your loss. Please accept my condolences.” Isabelle’s lips twisted in her effort to hold back another sob. “I’m Becky Dennison, Neal’s assistant.”
Recognition cleared the lines from her forehead and she took Becky’s hand. Becky kep
t her expression kind as she returned the woman’s troubled gaze.
“I remember. Neal said—” She stopped, struggling to maintain her composure, then continued. “Neal said you were a big help to him, that you were going to organize things in the office. He was so glad to have you.” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. Fumbling in her pocket, she withdrew the abused scrap of tissue again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be here today.”
“Mommy?” Jamie edged toward her, his gaze fixed on Isabelle as he laid a hand on Becky’s leg. His loud whisper rasped over the sound of the woman’s sniffle. “What’s wrong with that lady?”
“Jamie.” Becky infused her tone with warning as her stern expression told her son to hold his tongue.
Scott cleared his throat. “Tell you what, boys. I could use some help feeding the horses. Think you guys could give me a hand?”
“Wow!” Tyler ran toward her, bouncing on his toes. “Can we, Mommy? Please?”
Becky lifted her gaze from their pleading faces to Scott’s. The twins could be a handful, and she really hadn’t intended to dump them on her boss. Scott nodded almost imperceptibly toward Isabelle and then the house. Obviously, he’d rather deal with them than a crying woman.
Becky laid a hand on each boy’s shoulder. “Okay, but only if you promise to do exactly what Mr. Lewis says. And no fighting. And no standing up on the golf cart.”
Jamie’s eyes lit up. “We get to ride on the golf cart?”
“Woo-hoo!” Tyler pumped a fist into the air.
Scott nodded toward Isabelle and then with an unmistakable air of relief, headed toward the barn, flanked by excitedly leaping boys.
Becky smiled into Isabelle’s tear-streaked face. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside. I can put on a pot of coffee, or maybe make some tea.”
Isabelle hesitated. “Tea would be good, if it’s herbal.”
“It is.”
Becky placed an assuring arm around her and guided her toward the back door. Inside, she steered Isabelle into the kitchen and gestured toward a seat at the small table in the center of the room. She ran hot water into the large glass measuring cup she used to make her own tea every morning. While that heated in the microwave, she placed a boxed assortment of herbal teas on the table and got two clean mugs from the cupboard. She set the unchipped one in front of Isabelle.
A comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle, descended between them as they each selected a pouch from the box. When the microwave dinged, Becky poured water over Isabelle’s tea bag, and peach-scented steam rose from her mug. She retrieved a box of tissues from the office, which drew a brief smile of thanks from her distraught guest.
As Isabelle stirred a package of sweetener into her mug, Becky dunked her tea bag rhythmically in the steaming water. The sharp odor of mint from her mug mingled with the peach. She kept her gaze on the swiftly darkening tea. “Have you known Neal a long time?”
“We met at a Christmas party.” Isabelle reached for a fresh tissue as she shook her head. “Four months ago. It seems much longer.”
There could be only one possible reason for such grief for a man she’d known such a short time. Becky swirled her tea bag and spoke softly. “Were you in love with him?”
More tears rolled unchecked down her red cheeks as Isabelle nodded. “From the first moment. He was so handsome and funny. And passionate.” She looked up quickly. “About the horses, I mean. He told me all about them, and he spoke as though they were his children.”
“In a way, I think they were.”
A brief smile took her lips. “That’s what Father said. But that’s only because—” She bit back whatever she’d been about to say with a hard swallow.
Becky pulled the tea bag from her mug and sipped, breathing in the sweet odor of wintergreen. She judged the woman to be in her early thirties, not much older than Becky. “His death must have come as such a shock.”
She nodded miserably. “We were to have dinner Thursday night, a special dinner. When he didn’t arrive to pick me up, I thought—” She broke off and stared into her mug. When she continued, her voice was soft. “Father said it wouldn’t last, that Neal was only interested in me because of money. He forbade me to give him any.” Her tear-filled eyes rose to lock with Becky’s. “But he never asked. Not once since the night we met. So he couldn’t have been after my money, could he?” Her voice held a note of desperation.
Though she’d only worked with Neal two months, Becky had seen him pursue donations for the Pasture with charming single-mindedness. Would he have dated a woman only to get money for his precious horses? Possibly. But only temporarily, perhaps a dinner date or two. Surely he wouldn’t continue a relationship for months under false pretenses.
Becky blew the steam from her tea and sipped, aware that Isabelle waited fearfully for her answer. Neal was gone, and there was no reason for the poor woman to wonder for the rest of her life whether the man she loved had loved her in return. Tears of sympathy stung her eyes, and she replied with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Of course not. Neal had too much integrity for that.”
Isabelle seemed to draw comfort from her certainty. Her mug still untouched, she leaned against the back of the chair. “If only Father had known him better. And he would have had the opportunity soon.”
Her mouth snapped shut. She clutched the mug with both hands and hesitated, clearly holding back something. Becky remained silent, confident that given the opportunity, whatever Isabelle had to say would spill forth.
The woman’s gaze rose to meet with Becky’s. “Neal would have made a wonderful father. I know he would.”
Staring into the mournful dark eyes, Becky’s jaw went slack. What was she saying?
“Isabelle, are you pregnant?”
Isabelle’s chin trembled as she nodded. “I know it was soon, and we didn’t plan for this to happen. I planned to tell Neal that night. Then he didn’t show up for our date, and he didn’t answer his phone. I didn’t sleep at all, worrying that he’d found out about the baby and was angry with me. Which was silly, I know, because no one knows except me, but I couldn’t imagine why he would stand me up. Then I read yesterday’s paper.”
She broke down again, deep sobs racking her body as she drooped over the table. Becky lifted the hot tea mug out of harm’s way and laid a hand on her arm. What could she say? She knew no words of comfort equal to this woman’s devastating circumstance.
After a moment the sobbing eased and Isabelle raised her head. This time she sipped the warm tea Becky pushed toward her, and as she did her tears quieted.
“What will you do?”
Isabelle drew a deep breath. “I’ll raise our baby alone. Father will be furious when I tell him. He may even throw me out.” She lifted her chin. “If he does, I’ll get a job. I went to college. Surely someone will hire me.”
Becky hoped she was right. She knew all too well the trials in store for a mother struggling to raise her children alone. It was certainly a different life from the one Isabelle enjoyed now, with her Mercedes and her rich father.
She reached across the table to cover Isabelle’s hand with her own. “You’ll be in my prayers.”
The woman blinked, and then her features softened. “Thank you.”
TEN
Scott steered the boys toward the barn. He glanced backward and felt like a couple of cement blocks had been lifted off his chest at the sight of Becky and Isabelle Keller disappearing through the office door. Thank goodness Becky had arrived before the weepy heiress.
“Was that lady sad?”
Both boys watched him with round, dark eyes and solemn expressions. They looked a lot alike, enough that they might be mistaken for one another at a quick glance. But when he looked closer, Scott saw that the one who introduced himself as Tyler was a little taller, and Jamie’s face was more slender. And thank goodness Becky didn’t dress them alike. Jamie wore a red nylon ski jacket, and his brother an electric-blue one.
Tyler
shoved his brother’s shoulder. “Duh, stupid. Why else would she be crying?”
Jamie rounded on him, anger blazing in his eyes. “Don’t push me, Tyler. Mommy said not to fight.”
Scott stepped forward and looked down on both of them, taking advantage of his intimidating height to forestall a scuffle. “If you’re going to fight, you’ll have to go in the house with the women. I can’t have you upsetting the horses.”
Eyes wide, they both nodded. Scott addressed Jamie. “Yes, I think that lady was sad. She must have known Mr. Haldeman.” He snapped his mouth shut. What had Becky told her sons about Haldeman’s death? Better to keep quiet than to say anything that might confuse them.
The edges of Jamie’s mouth drooped. “I don’t like it when ladies cry. It makes me upset.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Scott glanced toward the back door of the house before nodding at Jamie. “Me, too.”
He stepped into the barn, the boys and Sam following. He picked up the pouch into which he’d placed the various morning medications that needed to be administered.
“Shotgun!” Tyler sprinted across the dirt floor.
Jamie raced behind him. “No fair! I want to ride up front.”
“Too bad.” Tyler leaped onto the cart’s front bench, and smirked at his brother. “I called shotgun first.”
Did they argue like this all the time? Scott hadn’t been blessed with brothers, and his only sister was six years older. When they were kids he liked to pester her, of course, but they never really fought. She would have squashed him like a bug.
“Nobody gets shotgun.” He let his stern gaze slide from Jamie to Tyler. “Except Sam. That’s his seat.”
Tyler pouted for a second, but then shrugged and climbed over the seat back to the bench that faced the rear of the cart. Scott hefted the bag of feed he’d filled earlier and deposited it on the floorboard in the front. Jamie climbed up beside his brother.
“Up here, Sam.” He slid behind the steering wheel and patted the bench. The dog leaped up to stand on the seat, then began licking the back of both boys’ heads. Grinning at their laughter, Scott guided the cart through the barn and out the back door.
Bluegrass Peril Page 7
